Like
the city states of renaissance era Italy, Philadelphia
is a loosely
fastened collective of neighborhoods. Each has a unique
identity and
attitude; the locals might say “attytood,” but all are united under
the city’s infamous gastronomic totem. Yes, I’m talking here about that
singular, epicurean symbol of all things cheesy yet delicious, the
Philly Cheese-steak. Not that I’m implying that Philadelphia is
cheesy, far from it. Cheesy suggests fake, or something less than the
real deal and Philly is perhaps the most un-fake city that one could
find. The views, beliefs, opinions, and political persuasions of the neighborhood populations range
from the ultra blue to the infrared, but
are truly heartfelt and strongly defended. And those convictions can be
puzzling and unpredictable. There are steadfast union workers living in
the Great Northeast who would not be caught dead supporting a “liberal”
agenda, and fifth generation gentry comfortably residing in Society
Hill who cast votes as blue as their blood.

"THE PHILLIE PHANATIC" IS
PART OF AN EYE-CANDY MURAL ABOVE THE BACKBAR. IT WAS PAINTED BY JEANNIE
ZIMMERMAN

NOT TO BE MISSED UNLESS YOU
DON'T LIKE FUN

The
well-known Greek derivation of the word, Philadelphia
is “city of
brotherly love.” It refers, of course, to the concord shared between
all
fellow travelers on this celestial orb of commerce and communion
regardless of tradition, tribe, or neighborhood. This definition
usually comes with a snicker of sarcasm because Philly has a reputation
of distinctly unloving behavior. Eagle’s fans, for instance, once
pelted a man in a Santa Clause costume with snowballs for no
discernible reason other than he provided a convenient and conspicuous
target. All obvious irony aside however, I contend the city was named
correctly. Unlike Agape which according to the ancient Greeks is an
unconditional, soul-felt favor of Love from the Divine, or Eros which
is a serendipitous gift of romantic passion from our endocrine system.
Philos, or Philia - brotherly love is not so much a feeling, but a
decision made in each human heart which is then put into action.
Philadelphians are hardly touchy-feely, but they are the original
deciders and their renowned hard work helped to create a nation both
figuratively and literally. Eighteenth century brotherly lovers from
everywhere in the colonies decided right here that all human beings are
created equal and then began the daunting task of making it so even if
that fine philosophical postulate is still a long way from being made
manifest. And, depending on their neighborhood, succeeding
generations
of Philadelphians decided to handcraft an infrastructure, refine a
financial and legal system, quench the thirst for education or
express profound insight and intuition through art and music.

Philadelphia is
currently undergoing a cultural and attitudinal renaissance much as the
aforementioned Italian city-states did. While it’s
true
that segregated dispositions die hard in some neighborhoods, others
have been reborn in full and are brimming with enlightenment, cultural
diversity, and fine pubs in which to gather and celebrate the pursuit
of happiness. One such neighborhood is Fairmount,
or as it is often
called, the Art Museum Area due to its
proximity to Philly’s own
Greco-Roman monument to the muses. Yeah, the one made famous in that
pop-iconic movie, Rocky. Fairmount has enjoyed
rejuvenation without over-the-top
gentrification. Workers, students, young professionals, artists, and
musicians all live together here and play nice.

THE BISHOP'S COLLAR IS RELAXED AND FAMILY FRIENDLY.
HERE MOM-RENEE, DAD-EJ, AND DAUGHTER-EVA
ENJOY SOME LATE AFTERNOON REFRESHMENT

A BEER SELECTION THAT SEEMS
TAILORED TOWARD THE AFICIONADO

One
popular spot where Fairmountians play is THEBISHOPS
COLLAR. Steve
Mashington of Yards Brewing Company
sent APHR staffers; David McBride,
Chris Poh, and yours truly there to sample a draught of Yards ESA which was delicious to
say
the least. A "bishops
collar" refers to the head on a pint Guinness when it rises in proper
fashion above the glass's brim and this pub lives up to its namesake
phenomenon.
The place is generously poured with a delightful effervescence. Mike
Tramontana, the man behind the bar, handles the
taps and the conversation with ease and expertise . . . would that
every bartender be so competent and present. A beautiful
blackboard mural by local artist, Jeannie Zimmerman adorns the wall
above the backbar. The largest collection of bobble-heads you have
ever seen keeps watch over the fine Scotch whisky, and every libation
is blessed by the square and jaundiced Bishop Lego smiling down upon
his flock of revelers. The whole atmosphere is
congenial and family friendly in the European style as evidenced by the
moms, dads and little tykes enjoying their early suppers at the
tables. There were several patrons of both genders alone at the bar
that afternoon which is always a sign of a good watering hole. When a
woman feels
at ease entering a saloon by herself, it is assuredly doing something
right. The bar takes an interesting compound turn and seated within was
Keith, obviously a regular. He was sipping a sharpener before
transforming into his alter ego - DJ Trincity - for the night.

So yo, when youze guyz get to Philly, save a day to bask in the genius
of
the masters at the Art Museum, become the subject
in some sublime, real life art by
strolling
along the
Schuylkill (skoo-kill) River while the crews row by in the background,
and
then
saunter up
Fairmount Avenue to the BISHOPS COLLAR
for some lively repast and
refreshment . . . and a bit of the friendship for which the city of
brotherly love was named.